


dance with cinderella

by AkitaFallow



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Compliant, Dead Man Writing trope, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Not A Fix-It, Pepper potts is a good mom, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Vignettes, tony stark deserved better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 15:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18741679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkitaFallow/pseuds/AkitaFallow
Summary: Tony Stark left a few last messages for the people who mattered most.For his daughter, he left hundreds.





	dance with cinderella

**Author's Note:**

> I am Coping™ in the only way I know how: by vomiting my feelings onto a Word document and then throwing them at the internet so others can suffer with me.
> 
>  
> 
> Title from Steven Curtis Chapman's "Cinderella", which has given me emotions for years and has finally found an appropriate fic to be applied to.

 

Morgan waits with Uncle Happy, curled up between his large, warm side and the arm of the couch. His arm curls around her shoulders and she presses her ear against his ribs, listening to his breathing just like Daddy lets her do when she has nightmares. Uncle Happy is big and broad, and his breaths are much deeper than Daddy’s, but she won’t complain, because Daddy’s not here.

Neither is Mommy. They’ve gone out to save the world.

It’s been _hours_.

(Later, when she thinks back on it, she’ll try to find the peace and comfort that came from _knowing_ that they were both coming home, that they _promised_ to come back, that Mommy had kissed her cheek and smiled and said “Don’t worry, baby, Happy will take care of you. I just have to go help Daddy stop a bad guy, okay?” and she’d been able to trust that it was true, because her parents had never, ever lied to her.

Most days, she fails.)

Finally, there’s the sound of repulsors outside the house, and she pushes away from Uncle Happy , accidentally shoving an elbow in his belly. He lets out an “oof!” that she barely hears because she’s already at the door, out the door, across the lawn to where Mommy is touching down in the armour she only wears when Daddy asks her to. By the time she reaches the spot, Mommy’s already stepping out of the armour and dropping to her knees with her arms open. Morgan jumps up and wraps her arms around Mommy’s neck, and feels the hug returned tightly.

A long moment passes, and her mom doesn’t let go.

Morgan tries to pull back, but her mom’s arms only tighten more, and she can feel her shaking.

“…Mommy?” she asks quietly. “What’s wrong?”

 

* * *

 

It’s the night after the funeral, and Morgan can’t sleep.

She tries to banish the memory of the wreath floating across the lake—Daddy’s old heart drifting with it, away from her, away _forever_ —but she can’t. Even when she presses her face more firmly into her mom’s collarbone, curls tighter into her arms that are heavy with sleep, even when she makes herself as tiny as possible and tries to disappear into Mommy’s warmth, she just can’t get it out of her head.

She finally gets frustrated, pulls herself out of her mom’s arms and rolls off the bed, rubbing her eyes as she stumbles across her parents’— _just Mommy’s now_ —bedroom and to the stairs. She pauses at the top of the first step, listening.

The house is silent.

She tiptoes down the stairs. When she gets to the bottom, she looks around.

There’s nobody. The holo table is dark, the doors all locked and the windows all firmly shut. There’s no one else here.

(Even though she knows he’s gone, has been gone for days, _is never coming back_ , she still expected… maybe…)

Her feet pad silently on the floor as she makes her way into the kitchen and looks up at the fridge. She’s just big enough to drag one of the kitchen chairs over in front of it and grab the handle of the freezer. The door swings open, and she reaches in.

After, she heads over to the couch with her prize and curls up against the arm of it, ripping open the wrapper and pulling out the orange juice pop.

She takes a little bite, and then waits.

And waits.

It takes a drip of cold liquid on her fingers to notice that it’s melting, that she’s just been waiting for a bite that wasn’t hers, that Daddy never—

And then she’s crying, giant shuddering sobs that make it hard to breathe and make her curl up until her face is pressed into the fabric of the couch, her arms wrapped around her knees and the juice pop lying forgotten on the floor.

He’s gone.

He’s really, _really_ gone.

They can’t share juice pops at night anymore, she can’t pretend to be Iron Girl and make him laugh, she won’t ever hear him tell her stories again, she’ll never be able to tell him _I love you three thousand_ —

She misses him so much that it hurts, feels like a hundred elephants sitting on her until she can’t feel anything but squished and tiny and suffocating. She’s crying and her nose is dripping and she’s waiting, waiting, waiting for the arms she knows always come when she’s sad, because he’s the best at making her happy again, at hugging her until she’s ready to stop crying and feel better, but…

He doesn’t come. He can’t.

 

* * *

 

It feels like hours later that she finally stops, and then all she can do is stare blankly at the half-melted juice pop staining the carpet in front of the couch, feeling numb and empty and so, so tired.

She’s never felt this tired in her entire life.

A long time passes before there’s a tiny, tiny notification beep and FRIDAY’s voice speaks up from the table behind her.

“Morgan, I have something I want to show you.”

Morgan turns to see the holo table lit up with a soft blue light, and despite herself she gets up and steps around the couch and the mess on the floor, coming to sit at the table like Daddy always tells her to when he shows her something.

“What is it?” she asks when FRIDAY doesn’t say anything right away.

“Tony left me something for you,” FRIDAY says. “But I didn’t get to show you until now because I wanted it to be just our secret.”

Morgan cocks her head to the side, rubbing one of her sticky eyes. “A secret?”

“It’s private,” she explains. “Just for you, and he trusted me to give it to you.”

“Okay.”

A moment later, the air above the table lights up with a grid of hundreds of little file folders. She’s been able to read for a whole year and FRIDAY has helped her use the holo since she could understand, so she’s able to make out the words on some of the folders as FRIDAY scrolls through them: _birthdays; wedding; first date; late night chats; fights with Mom; SCIENCE!; more stories;_ and hundreds more that she doesn’t get a chance to see right away, because FRIDAY pulls up one file right at the top that says _Watch first!_

“What is it?” she asks again, this time much more quietly.

“They’re videos,” FRIDAY says just as quietly. “Tony has been recording them for years.”

“But why?” She grips the edge of the table as a still image of her dad pops up over it, in the same outfit as the projection they’d all watched after he… After he was gone.

“I’ll let him explain,” FRIDAY says gently before playing the video.

 

* * *

 

[File name: _Watch first!_ (00:10:36)]

[11.23.2023]

 

 

 

> _Hey there, sweetheart. If you’re seeing this, Daddy’s… Daddy’s gone. I know we explained death to you a long time ago, with everything that happened before you were born, but I never wanted… I didn’t want this to be your first experience with it. And for that, I’m sorrier than I could ever say. I told everyone else that it was going to work, that I didn’t have to leave anything important because it_ had _to work, but—just in case. Just in case, I can’t let that be everything you remember about me. I am so, so proud of you and I love you so, so much, and I need you to know that. For as long as I can tell you._
> 
> _Mommy can probably tell you that I’ve always been really good at seeing bad things coming and planning for them, even if I’m not so good at staying out of them. Before you were born I was actually doing dangerous things all the time, even when your mom got mad at me for them. I’ve told you some of the stories, but some of them need to wait until you’re older. Way older. Like, maybe we can wait until you’re forty before you have to see the worst sides of your old man—_
> 
> _But anyway. There’s a point to this._
> 
> _I want to be there for everything, from the day you were born until the day I die, hopefully waaaaaaaaay in the future. Because there’s nothing more important to me than you, and I want to make sure you have everything you could ever need. But of all people, I think I understand that a lot of the time, things don’t go the way you want them to. Bad things happen. Bad people happen, and good people lose things. Lose each other. And I’m not enough of an idiot to think I’m immune now that I have something priceless to protect._
> 
> _Don’t say idiot. That’s a Daddy-only word._
> 
> _So. I’ve done my best to make contingency plans, in case something goes wrong. Contingencies are back-up plans, like when we have to hide our ice cream because Mommy’s already found out we have it, but maybe we can still get away with it if she doesn’t actually see it. In this case, my contingencies are recording enough videos that maybe, if something were to happen to me, I could still be there for you in some way. Even if it wouldn’t quite be the same._
> 
> _I started these before you were born, though the first few are probably a little too vague to be useful. I didn’t get good at it for a while, if you can believe it. I, too, am bad at things occasionally! Surprise!_
> 
> _But anyway. I’ve done my best to record as many as I could think of, and hopefully I’ll get to do a lot more as you get older, but we’re going into another big end-of-the-universe potential crisis and… contingencies._
> 
> _I’m trusting FRIDAY to show them to you when they’re most appropriate, though if you want to watch a bunch at a time she’s not going to stop you. A few won’t be available till you’re older—sorry, some things are not for little ears—but I hope there’s enough._
> 
> _Who am I kidding? There’s no such thing as enough. But I hope it’s something worth watching and remembering._
> 
> _Your mom has a few videos she gets to watch too, but she already knows most of the things I want to say to her. But these ones, these are just for you. I know it’ll never replace the time we could have had, but… well, it’s an attempt, at least._
> 
> _At this point there’s not much else for me to say that I haven’t already said, unless I want to spend the next ten years talking and never get around to saving the world. I do have a few last bits of advice, if this happens to be my last video…_

* * *

 

 

A lot of people come by over the next few months.

Uncle Happy and Uncle Rhodey are there all the time—they play with Morgan, when they can, but sometimes one of them will take her out to the park in town and she’ll come back to find Mommy on the couch with red, puffy eyes and a tissue scrunched up in her hand. Those are the days she tries to be as good as she can, because she knows that Mommy is sad, that she misses Daddy too.

Harley stays for a few weeks after the funeral, and spends a lot of that time either helping Mommy around the house or just sitting with Morgan in her tent. He’s supposed to be off at college right now, but he tells her he took something called ‘bereavement leave’ and he doesn’t have to be back for a while.

(She shows him Daddy’s recordings, because FRIDAY never said she couldn’t and Harley is the closest thing to a brother she’s ever had. For the first time _ever_ , Harley cries. He doesn’t let her show him more than a few, saying that they’re private. “I have some of my own,” he confides with a watery smile. “So you can keep yours.”)

There’s a flood of people she doesn’t know, each one stopping in for an hour or two before disappearing. She recognizes a few of them from when they came by to get Daddy, to ask him to help save the world. Some of them are the other Avengers from Daddy’s stories, like Falcon and the Winter Soldier and the Pirate Man. Most of them just want to talk to Mommy or give her things, and it’s usually boring so Morgan doesn’t stick around for it. The Pirate Man comes by at least once a week, and he usually gives her a little wink as he goes by. (Well, she _thinks_ it’s a wink, but he only has one eye so it’s hard to tell. Can pirates wink?)

One of the men kneels down in front of her as soon as he arrives, holding out his hand for a formal handshake. “I’m Clint, though you might have heard of me as Hawkeye,” he says, and he’s one of the first who doesn’t talk to her like she’s a _baby_. “Your daddy and I were never really close, but… My best friend died to help save the world, and Tony died to finish what she started. So I just wanted to say that if you need anything, you just have to get your mom to call me. I’ll come by. I have some kids of my own, and one of them is about your age, if you want a new friend.”

Morgan nods hesitantly and shakes his hand.

She meets Peter Parker, and he tells her that he’s the Spider-Man Daddy would tell her stories about. She doesn’t really understand how everyone who got disappeared is back again, but she decides then and there that she’s gonna be the one who teaches him about the years he missed. Especially because Daddy can’t do it anymore.

An old guy comes by late one afternoon, knocking very gently on the door and bowing his head slightly when Mommy opens the door.

“…Steve?” Mommy gasps after a very long moment.

The man smiles, and she lets him in.

They spend a long, long time in the living room. Morgan isn’t sure what they talk about, but every time she wanders past the doorway she can see Mommy crying new tears. And yet, even though she has tears on her face and a pile of tissues beside her, she’s smiling.

“I made sure he was okay,” the man—Steve—says just before he leaves that night. “Me and Peggy both. Even if it doesn’t make much of a difference here and now…”

“It’s enough,” Mommy says quietly, leaning on the door. “I don’t know how all of this time travel stuff works, but… it’s enough.”

 

* * *

 

 

[File name: _Stories about Mom and Dad 4_ (00:03:52)]

[04.02.2022]

 

 

 

> _Y’know, your mom and I met when I was the CEO of Stark Industries and she was… I think she was an accounting intern at the time? Honestly, I can’t even remember. It’s all a blur until she started threatening my security with pepper spray, at which point I fell instantly in love. She’ll tell you differently, but are you going to believe_ her _over_ me _? Your wonderful and always honest Daddy?_
> 
> _I’ll tell you something she probably won’t, though. Her first name is Virginia, not Pepper. You wanna know who gave her that name?..._

 

* * *

[File name: _Advice 66_ (00:02:49)]

[09.18.2021]

 

 

 

> _Random Dad Advice number… FRI, how many is that now? Sixty six. Okay. Random Dad Advice Number Sixty Six! Don’t live anywhere that’s cold. Snow is the worst. Except when it’s warm enough to go outside and make snowmen. New York doesn’t count because most of the snow gets kicked around by people and you’d be living in a building with several people who can fly—_

* * *

 

She hears Mom’s voice before she even reaches the stairs, and it makes Morgan freeze in her tracks.

“—did _what_?” her mom demands of whoever’s on the phone. “I’m gonna need you to repeat that, Happy, because I swear you just said… No. That is the most stupidly _reckless_ thing I have ever heard, and we both know how long I knew Tony… Well you’d better tell him, or better yet, send him here and I can tell him myself… I should _hope_ you called May first… Yes. Oh for god’s sake, a _building_ —”

There’s a soft _thud_ from Morgan’s room.

When she peeks around the door, Peter is already peeling himself off of the floor under the window and brushing nonexistent dust from the front of his Spider-Man suit.

His Spider-Man suit that is very clearly covered in what looks like black ink.

“Oh, hey, Mor!” he greets her enthusiastically but very, very quietly as she comes in and closes the door behind her. “You, uh… you got any paper towel in here?”

“Mom already knows,” she says frankly even as she’s going to the closet. “She’s on the phone with Uncle Happy right now.”

Peter’s entire body sort of shrinks—if she didn’t know it wasn’t one of his powers, she would probably guess he actually gets smaller. “Aw, great. Hopefully he doesn’t tell her—”

“I doubt it.”

It’s at that moment that the door of the room creaks open to reveal Pepper Stark-Potts standing in the doorway like an avenging angel.

“I _thought_ I heard a bug skittering in.” Her voice is sharp and cold and oh-so-disapproving.

“And they say _I_ have super senses,” Peter mutters as he stares up at her in terror.

Mom advances into the room, and Peter backs away until he hits the windowsill. “What’s this I hear about you dropping a _building_ on a giant alien squid while you were _still inside_?”

Peter whimpers in a way very unbecoming of a twenty-something.

Mom holds her hand out for the roll of towels, and Morgan obediently hands them over. Pepper promptly tosses them on the bed in the corner. “I think this is a bigger job than towels can handle. I think you deserve a good hosing down. Come on, Peter.” It’s far more of a command than a suggestion as she turns and walks out of the room.

Peter follows behind her meekly, turning wide eyes on Morgan as he passes. “Help me,” he whispers.

She just raises an eyebrow at him, something Uncle Rhodey says makes her look exactly like her father’s daughter. Peter deflates and plods out the door.

A minute later, there’s a high, girlish shriek from the back yard and Morgan can’t help but laugh.

* * *

[File name: _10 th birthday _(00:04:32)]

[01.30.2020]

 

 

 

> _Happy tenth birthday, squirt! The big one-oh, the double-digit debut, the first full decade of life! Full of possibilities, until you start counting the decades more often than the years, and then it just gets sad…_
> 
> _Don’t you roll your eyes at me! I know you are. I can see it through time because you’re gonna be just as sassy as your mom as soon as you get old enough to know what sarcasm is, and if my own childhood is anything to go by then you’re already well into the deep end…_

* * *

[File name: _Obligatory Protective Dad Speech_ (00:2:51)]

[08.11.2023]

 

 

> _…and if your future boyfriend and/or girlfriend ever does anything to hurt you, I will absolutely come back from the grave to beat them up. Actually, no, I will come back from the grave, tell your Auntie Nat, and_ she _will beat them up. She’ll do a much better job. And then, if she hasn’t already, she can teach you how to do it yourself._
> 
> _Actually, after seeing what she did to Killian I’m pretty sure you’d do just fine if your mom taught you, too…_

* * *

“Will I get to be Iron Man one day?”

Pepper startles and turns from where she’s chopping vegetables on the kitchen counter. It’s the third kitchen Morgan’s checked so far, because the Avenger Compound has _way too many_ , but at least she found her mom, finally.

“Will you _what_?” Mom’s eyes are wide and alarmed, and Morgan knows she heard her the first time.

“Iron Man,” she repeats anyway.

Pepper puts down her knife and leans on the counter, crossing her arms. “You’re too young to Iron Man. You’re _thirteen_.”

Morgan scowls. “That’s why I said _when I’m older_ , obviously.”

“Even so, it’s dangerous.”

“But it’s not too dangerous for _you_.”

Mom sighs, rubbing the spot between her eyes that she does whenever she finds Morgan particularly vexing. Morgan takes a secret amount of pride in how many times she can get that expression in a given conversation.

“There isn’t a suit that would fit you.”

“Shuri could make me one. Like the one she made for Peter after he broke his, or like Uncle Rhodey’s.”

“The lead scientist of Wakanda has a lot more to do than to make you a suit, Morgan.”

“But she would. She loves me because I’m cute.”

Pepper rolls her eyes. “Yes, and we all know you get everything you want because you’re cute.”

Morgan throws herself onto one of the bar stools. “The cutest, and the sweetest.” She lets her mom turn back to the vegetables before speaking again. “So why can’t I have my own suit and save the world? Dad did it.”

Mom freezes with the knife above a carrot, and then very carefully places the utensils down with a sharp _click_. Her eyes don’t rise from the cutting board. “Your father did a lot of risky things. Iron Man was just one of them.”

“So? Why didn’t you stop _him_?”

“I tried to. For years. But in the end Tony Stark and Iron Man were the same person. I’ve told you this before—”

“Yeah, yeah, you can’t have one without the other, whatever that means. But he was Iron Man for a _long time_. He got into lots of crazy fights and always came out fine, except for the one, obviously—”

“ _Morgan_.” Her mom’s voice is full of warning, but Morgan can’t stop, the words pouring like bitter acid from her tongue.

“—and he did all _kinds_ of stupid things. And it wasn’t the stupid ones that got him killed, it was the big noble gesture. So as long as I don’t decide to go and save the entire universe, I should be fine. Easy-peasy. In fact, I bet I could even manage to pull of noble gestures without—”

“ _Stop. Right now._ ”

Morgan’s mouth snaps shut like a vise. Pepper’s hands are like claws against the marble of the countertop, almost managing to disguise the way they’re shaking. Her hair, loose on a rare day of relaxation, hangs around her face, hiding her expression, but the tension in the air says everything.

Like a balloon popping, Morgan feels all the strange, bitter feelings flood out of her at once. She doesn’t know where they came from, doesn’t really understand why she even said them, but the results are standing in front of her.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” She reaches out a hand to her mom’s shoulder.

Before her hand even makes contact, Pepper turns away with a jerk and strides quickly out of the kitchen—but not before Morgan catches sight of her face and freezes at the line of fresh tears.

Mom hasn’t cried in years.

Morgan stares after her for a long time.

(And yet, later, even after spending an entire evening with Uncle Hulk doing experiments on extra-dimensional rifts, she can’t help but think maybe there was the tiniest kernel of honesty in what she said. She didn’t mean it… did she?)

* * *

[File name: _Peter Parker_ (00:05:25)]

[10.29.2023]

 

 

 

> _I'm actually both grateful and furious that Pep hasn't let a drop of alcohol in the house for three years, ’cause I could really use a drink right now._
> 
> _I never got the chance to tell you about Peter. I mean, obviously I've told you stories about Spider-Man and the kid behind the mask, but I haven't told you about who he_ really _was. How important he ended up being to me._
> 
> _You've probably noticed his picture up in the corner at some point, especially if you're tall enough to actually see the shelf by now. He was… god, he was just the best kid in the world. Not better than you, I mean, but I'm parentally obligated to think that forever. Peter was the best, after you. He was… probably the reason I came to terms with the idea of being a father._
> 
> _I know, I know, I'm so amazing at it with you that there’s no_ possible _way I was ever bad at it, right?_
> 
> _Wrong!_
> 
> _To be totally honest, I've been playing it by ear so far and the fact that you've come out without any visible neuroses by now is probably 90% Pepper. But that ten percent that comes from me is very much because of Peter. He was the closest thing to a son I ever had, and I miss him every single day._
> 
> _...He would have been an amazing older brother..._

* * *

 

Morgan taps her fingernails against the desk, her English assignment open on the holo screen in front of her. She’s only two pages into the essay, and she can feel the frustration bubbling up in her as her eyes are drawn _again_ to the tiny notification in the corner of the screen, blinking slowly but insistently.

It popped up the day after her fifteenth birthday, and it hasn’t gone away in the week since.

She tries to ignore it for another five minutes in silence, getting out another paragraph before her patience finally breaks.

“FRIDAY.”

“Yes, Morgan?”

“Get rid of that popup.”

There’s a long pause—for FRIDAY, at least—before the AI responds. “I’m afraid I don’t have the permissions to do that.”

FRIDAY has been able to rewrite her own code for over a decade. It’s really her way of very politely saying that she doesn’t want to do what you’re telling her to do.

And right now it drives Morgan up the fucking _wall_.

“Why _not_.” Her voice is flat, just like her mom’s gets when she’s a few misplaced words from an explosion.

“You haven’t watched your birthday video yet.”

Morgan’s hands curl into fists on the desk. “Well maybe I don’t _want_ to.”

FRIDAY’s voice is artificially casual. “I could always save it for you to watch this evening.”

“I’m not going to watch it _then_ , either. I don’t want to watch it at _all._ ”

“Morgan, you know that your father—”

Her chair topples to the ground as she leaps to her feet, glaring at the screen. “I don’t _care_ what my father wanted!” she hisses, feeling a reckless energy that’s been building for months coursing through her veins. “I don’t _care_ what he left behind, or what he has to say!”

“Morgan—”

“He’s not _here_!” she shrieks. “He’s _gone_! He had to be the _goddamn hero_ and save the day, and he didn’t even _try_ to find a different solution. I don’t care what he wanted to say to me or what he left me! I’m not a little kid anymore, and I don’t need all his stupid excuses and apologies because he cared more about doing his job than actually _being here_. If he was such a hero he would have stayed. I don’t need him! I don’t—I don’t _want_ him anymore!”

Her hands are shaking at her sides, and belatedly she realizes there are tears streaming down her face.

There’s a long moment of silence before FRIDAY responds.

“Alright. I’ll just—”

“Delete it.” Morgan doesn’t realize what she’s said until she says it, but then the fire burns through her blood again. “Delete it all. Every single video.”

“I’m afraid—”

“Stop giving me excuses and just fucking _get rid of it_!”

“Morgan, you’re emotional, don’t—”

“ _Mute!_ ” It’s something she hasn’t done in years. The sudden silence rings. “Just _do what I say._ ”

Several seconds tick by before the file screen pops up. Morgan watches, shaking, as a progress bar starts ticking away. Folder by folder, the files blink out of existence, one after the other until the screen sits empty, a blinking _Deletion Complete_ notification across the centre.

Morgan throws herself down on her bed and cries.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**…**

**…**

**…**

**…**

**…**

**…**

**Accessing backup drive C, location: 37.47099, -82.02759**

**Files located. Extracting…**

**...**

**Restoring from backup, estimated time: 0:00:31**

**...**

**Restore complete.**

**Files last accessed: 2 yr, 4 mth ago, 15:07:19**

**Playing first file...**

* * *

 

[File name: _First Go At Things (01:13)_ ]

[02.19.2019]

 

 

 

> _Alright, and we are… a… go! First video for Baby Stark, take seven._
> 
> _Hi there Morgan! You… uh… you’re only about the size of a jellybean right now, so I don’t know much about you yet, but your mom and I are so excited to meet you. You’ve got some big shoes to fill, kid. I mean, not that we expect anything from you in particular, we’re gonna love you no matter what, I just mean that we expect you to be amazing and perfect because you’re our kid—_
> 
> _Crap. That sounds awkward. FRIDAY, how am I supposed to talk to someone I’ve never met? ‘Hi Morgan, I don’t even know if you’re a boy or a girl but your mom is painting your room green as we speak and I hope you love it’? Which, speaking of—FRI, put in another order for those garlic nachos, Pepper’s gonna want them after working so hard—_
> 
> _Right. Recording. Okay. Where was I? Your bedroom. Pepper picked out the furniture, but I will have you know that the curtains were_ entirely _me and if anyone tells you differently then you tell me and I’ll go beat them up—_
> 
> _Now I’m advocating violence to a collection of cells without a consciousness. What is the world even coming to?_
> 
> _FRIDAY, scrap it, we’ll try again tomorrow—hey, no, you can’t save that! Don’t you dare—_

 

[end recording] 

* * *

 

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Morgan?”

“...Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Always.”

 

* * *

[File name: _21 st birthday_ (00:08:27)]

[06.14.2021]

 

 

> _Happy twenty first birthday! True freedom is upon you! As your incredibly responsible father it is my job to tell you that when you go out tonight you are limited to three drinks. Four if your mom says yes. Alcohol is weird the first time and I’d rather you get home safe._
> 
> _Unless you’ve already tried it, in which case I am extremely disappointed. Look, this right here? My disappointment face. I am_ truly _and_ deeply _scandalized that you would ever do something like that, what would your mother say? How dare you consume an alcoholic beverage before the arbitrarily mandated federal age?_
> 
> _Nah, I’m just kidding. Though to be totally straight with you, make sure you’re careful. Pepper probably won’t tell you this, but your old man had a bit of a problem with alcoholism for… a long time. I’ve been sober for years, don’t you worry, but some people say it’s hereditary and I never want anything like that to happen to you. You have people you can talk to, a support system I helped set up long before you ever existed, and don’t be scared to use it. It’s a lot better than a bottle…_

 

* * *

 

[File name: _AIs and You_ (00:34:02)]

[12.25.2022]

 

 

 

> _—then I remember that you never knew JARVIS, and that's something that breaks my heart every day. He was… well, I guess you could say he’s the only reason I even made it to forty, let alone beyond. I might have written his base code, but he took it and ran so far that by the time I looked again he’d become his own person._
> 
> _Anyway. This isn’t about him, I’ve already left you a dissertation about him in one of the other files. This, though, is about my Christmas present to you. If I’m still around, you won’t need this video, because I’m planning on telling you once you’re old enough to understand that FRIDAY is more than just a helpful friend—_ so _much more. I didn’t originally design her to be yours, of course; when she came around your mom and I weren’t even married yet. But I admit that, after Ultron and everything that happened with Vision, I left her… stunted. Yes, FRIDAY, don’t flash those lights at me, you know I’m right._
> 
> _I was scared. I thought of what might happen if I gave another AI the same freedom as I gave JARVIS, the same freedom that helped to create Ultron in the first place, and I just… it terrified me. It paralyzed me. And I took it out on my new girl. FRIDAY doesn’t have the same ability to grow and adapt like JARVIS did. She can’t learn at the level he could, can’t build the same kind of independence. I thought I was protecting her, and myself. I thought it was the right thing to do._
> 
> _But… not anymore. It took a long time to let myself accept that it wasn’t a flaw in JARVIS that let Ultron take over; it was the Infinity Stone he came from. Maybe he had open access once it happened, but it wasn’t JARVIS’s fault. And… and it wasn’t mine, either._
> 
> _See what therapy does! Sam would be so proud._
> 
> _It’s not fair to FRIDAY, and I intend to fix that. So I guess it’s not just a Christmas present for you, but for her as well. It’s time to set her free, and I’m gonna explain how you both can grow together. Buckle in, it’s time for Coding AIs 101…_

 

* * *

“Okay, I think we’re live. FRIDAY?”

The tablet hums for a moment before the AI’s voice bleeds through the micro-speakers placed around the room.

“Running diagnostics… A/V components operating at 100%, 0.003 millisecond delay. Everything seems fine on my end.”

Morgan grins and steps out of her room, tablet held high. “It’s aliiiiive!” she announces dramatically, and holds her hand out to accept the crisp high five that’s waiting for her.

“Told you you didn’t need me,” Harley says with an answering grin as he lowers his hand, settling more firmly into her _very_ comfortable couch.

“You were backup.” She flops onto the couch next to him, tossing him the tablet. “And you’re better at troubleshooting, so. Shoot that trouble.”

Harley snorts, but accepts the device. “How cruel, making your elders do all the work for you. I am _hurt_ and _betrayed._ ” He starts tapping away on the screen, running deeper diagnostics. “You’d think I didn’t have _other_ annoying kids to bother me and take up my well-earned spare time…”

Morgan elbows him, snorting. “Oh shut up. You know the boys adore me. You could’ve brought them along.”

Harley eyes the apartment-style dormitory around him with a raised eyebrow before leveling her with a flat look. “And subject them to whatever mess this place is going to become? No. I know what teenagers are like.”

Morgan scowls. “Ex _cuse_ you, I am not a teenager.”

“Your roommates will be.”

...That’s a good point.

“It’s not my fault Peter said a few years off wouldn’t hurt,” she grumbles after a moment. “Good for finding myself and all that shit.”

“This coming from the kid who started taking college courses in eleventh grade to try and ‘catch up’ after he re-materialized five years late.”

“At least I didn’t go to MIT at fifteen?”

“Thank god for that. You probably would have been more emotionally stunted than your dad.”

After nineteen years, the sting of the word is almost comforting; a little bit sad, but mostly fond.

Morgan snorts and gets up. “As if Mom would’ve let me. Anyway, I’m gonna order some pizza. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure there’s lots of pineapple on yours.”

“Don’t you _dare—”_

* * *

[File name: _Yardwork Sucks (but don’t tell your mom)_ (00:00:43)]

[05.31.2020]

 

 

> _...and when I heard ‘Happy’s gonna take the baby to the park,’ I thought it meant ‘Tony, we’re going to have some sweet, sweet alone time and enjoy the silence,’ not ‘We’re going to dig up the entire property and put in a new fence.’ Isn’t that what contractors are for? Why do we have to do it ourselves? I’m not built for the outdoors. Why did we buy a cabin, again?_
> 
> _Of course you don’t care, you’re out at the park playing and shi—er, stuff, not doing back-breaking labour under a horrible taskmaster, one who’s probably gonna notice that I’m not just getting water—_
> 
> _“Tony!”_
> 
> _Aaaaaaand that’s my cue. Don’t smoke, stay in school—_
> 
> _“TONY!”_
> 
> _—et cetera, et cetera, comiiiiing!_

[end recording]

 

* * *

 

Morgan fiddles with her gloves as she stands in front of the door. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest—whether with excitement or nerves, she’s not sure. The sun is shining in through the frosted glass, bathing the entire antechamber in warm light. The murmur of the crowd outside is soft and almost comforting, but she can still feel the jitters running through her.

Moments later, Pepper steps through the access door behind her. Morgan gives her a nervous smile, and Mom laughs, stepping forward to take her hands.

Her hands are warm, even through the gloves, and Morgan lets it steady her.

“I was the same, years ago,” Pepper confides, her eyes twinkling. “The nerves get everyone, even if you think you’re ready.”

“Is there any way to make it _better_?”

Mom laughs, throwing her head back, and Morgan can’t help but think that she’s absolutely beautiful in the afternoon light. “Nope. You just have to dive right into it.”

Morgan snorts. “Great.” She eyes the door nervously.

There’s a hand on her cheek, turning her face back to her mom. “Hey.” Pepper’s eyes are warm and comforting. “You’re going to be fine. You have a beautiful woman waiting for you, who’s probably feeling the same nerves, and everyone out there is so, so happy for you. Everything’s going to be fine.”

She manages a lopsided smile, and leans in for a hug. “Thanks, Mom.”

Pepper squeezes her tightly for a long moment. “I love you, baby.” When she pulls back, her eyes are sparkling with more than just joy. She takes a deep breath and uses her free hand to swipe at the tears like they’re offending her.

Morgan notes with absent pride that her makeup doesn’t even smudge—she _knew_ that new formula would work, and her mom was her best test subject.

“Sorry, I just… We always talked about this, you know? Even if it was just a joke, because you were so little… We knew it would probably come.” She sniffles indelicately. “Tony was so… so excited to be part of this day. Even if it was years away.”

Morgan squeezes her arm. “I know.”

“You just… you’re so beautiful, Morgan. And I wish he could see it. He’d be so proud.”

“I _know_ , Mom.”

Pepper meets her eyes, and there’s a second of silent communication.

“I know,” Morgan repeats, a tiny smile on her face as she tilts her head toward the little tablet on the side table next to the door. Mom follows her gaze to the file that’s pulled up, labelled _Just before you walk down the aisle_.

When their eyes meet again, her mom’s have filled with new tears.

“He was always too smart for his own good,” she manages between small hiccups that almost sound like laughter. “Stupid, _so_ stupid, but smart as hell.”

Morgan throws her head back and laughs, a little knot in her chest loosening.

Then the music starts, and the doors open. Gripping her mom’s arm, she steps out into the bright field to meet her future.

 

* * *

[File name: _Watch first!_ (00:10:36)]

[11.23.2023]

 

 

> _...and my wish for you, more than anything else, is that you have a normal, happy life. Well, normal might be pushing it with our family, but the happiness is non-negotiable. I want you to be happy, in whatever form that takes for you. Do what you want to do, be who you want to be, and know that no matter what you choose, I will always be proud of you._
> 
> _You are the best thing that ever happened to me, don’t you doubt that for a single second. I love you infinity, squirt. More than the entire universe can hold._

[end recording]

* * *

 

It’s strangely peaceful when they get back from the hospital. Maybe it’s the smell of home, maybe it’s the last rays of the sun shining in through the window of the office and turning the walls amber. Maybe it’s the feeling of finally, after months of waiting, having a clear and defined beginning to the next chapter of their life together.

She can hear Jackie down the hall in the new nursery, soothing baby Maria’s tiny newborn cries quiet Irish lullabies that she says her mother sang for her. The trees outside are creaking with the evening wind, and Morgan can still feel the exhaustion of labour plucking at her limbs, even two days later.

Next time, it's definitely Jackie's turn to carry the kid.

FRIDAY's blue hologram hovers in the air above her desk. Her eyes drift over the hundreds of little file folders down the side of the projection, file names old and intimately, achingly familiar. She runs her fingers past them before selecting a new one, created just a few days ago and currently empty.

A little red dot in the middle of the hologram starts blinking in patient expectancy.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Morgan lets herself settle into the chair and presses _record._

“Hey baby girl. Welcome to the world.”

 

 

 

 **_FIN_ ** _._

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to splatter your feels all over the comments and kudos!


End file.
